Chapter 13
Ethan
Maybe the dark was better after all. I was overstimulated, but taking away one sense just made all the others get sharper.
Her scent, her delicious taste and texture, the vibrant, perfect shape of her.
And after that first panicky gasp, she responded passionately, kissing me back.
She pulled me toward her, and I rolled on top of her.
Her muscles went rigid, and I stopped. “Is this okay?” I asked.
“I don’t know,” she said. “I usually, ah…”
“You could get on top, if you want,” I suggested. “I’d love that too. I know it would be great. But you’ve trusted me so far, and it’s been good. More than good.”
She thought about it for a second, and I felt her shrug. “Oh, go ahead,” she said tartly. “Do it, do it. Quick. Before I have time to make a big thing of it in my head.”
I laughed, under my breath, nudging her into position. “I will not rush this, no matter what you say,” I told her. “I’d rather sneak up on it slowly, even if it takes hours. Not try to get out in front of it. I don’t want to fuck it up. Break things.”
“Damn it, Masters,” she grumbled. “Don’t try to fix me.”
“No way. I like the way you are. I think you’re fucking perfect.”
“Then you’re pretty twisted, buddy, but it was still a very sweet thing to say. Stupid, wrong-headed, possibly pathological, but sweet.”
Damn, the super-erotic vibe was weird, mixed with giggling and snorting.
But laughter was another defense mechanism.
I was on to her, and it didn’t dent my appetite one goddamn bit.
I groped for another condom in the drawer of the bedside table, ripped it open one handed and rolled it over myself in one swift move.
Then I shifted, tilting her hips, and her beautiful, strong legs wrapped around me, hugging me jealously tight as I slowly slid my cock into her clinging pussy.
She was still drenched from the last time, and that was very fortunate, as tight as she was.
“Perfect,” I said again, but my voice shook.
She started to speak, but her voice choked off as I surged inside again. “Oh God.”
“I know,” I said, breathless. “You feel so good. It’s different with you.”
She kissed me, and the kiss unleashed me.
We were off and at it, wild and fierce. I’d never been with a woman so lithe and physically strong.
She wrapped herself around me, put me right where she needed me, those powerful thighs locked around my ass, pulling me in, bracing me.
We were one thing, heaving and gasping together.
I barely held back my orgasm when she exploded, her pussy squeezing me rhythmically. I held my breath, motionless, teetering on the edge of my self-control.
Our hearts slowed, after a few panting minutes. “You didn’t come?” she asked.
“Not yet,” I said. “I want to make you come again. At least a few more times.”
“You are one hardcore macho control freak, Masters. Is that a billionaire thing?”
“Couldn’t tell you. I think it’s just me, but I can’t be sure. I haven’t fucked any other billionaires, at least to my knowledge, so I can’t really say.”
She laughed softly. “Smartass.”
“It was the answer you deserved.” I kissed her again, still wedged deep inside her, and tossed back the covers, rising up onto to my knees. I folded her legs up, and began again. Slow, gliding strokes, tenderly caressing her clit with the pad of my thumb.
I was following a path toward her pleasure that was mapped out for me by raw instinct. All I had to do was silence the yapping voice in my mind and pay attention to it. I had never been so motivated to get this right. She deserved for this to work, explosively. Repeatedly.
She slid her fingers into my chest hair, digging in her nails. “Come. Right now,” she urged. “I want to feel you come. I need it.”
Her whispered command took me by surprise, and shoved me right off that tightrope of self-control. I lost it completely, and let go. Arching over her, hips driving. Feeling the delicious bite of those nails as intense pleasure, her low voice inciting me.
Then, that huge crashing, falling. That obliterating rush. It carried me away.
When I finally opened my eyes, I was collapsed over Kat’s body.
“Damn. I think I lost consciousness,” I mumbled. “Sorry. Am I squishing you?”
“I can breathe,” she said, a hint of humor in her voice. “But only because I’m very strong. I can make my ribs expand, even with—what are you? Two-forty?”
“Bite your tongue.” I said lazily. “Not an ounce more than two-thirty.” But I rolled off and out of her. We shivered as the air hit our sweat-drenched bodies.
“You kept me warm, at least,” she commented.
I grabbed the cover and pulled it up over us both, and shifted closer.
No grabbing, or she’d stiffen up. I was starting to get the Kat choreography down.
She needed extra time, she needed breathing room, and she needed for her prickly bullshit to roll right off my back, and not be taken personally. I was getting the hang of it.
But if I tried to lay down the law, she would tear me to pieces. Hmm.
It was a thorny dilemma, since I wanted to keep her safe. And in my bed.
I heard a grumbling sound from her belly. My own, always suggestible, responded, and we both laughed. “Are you hungry?” I asked.
“I could eat,” she admitted “Have we got some leftovers from that amazing lunch in a fridge somewhere?”
“I’m sure we do, but I’ll do you one better,” I said. “I can make kickass buttermilk blueberry pancakes. Like you would not believe.”
She let out an involuntary whimper. “Oh, my God, really? Lay it on me, Masters. What kind of eccentric billionaire makes his own pancakes?”
“From scratch, I take pains to point out, and enough with the billionaire cracks. I had a little sister to feed, okay? I could even make you a pancake mouse, or a pancake man, or a pancake flower if you want, with decorative chocolate chips or blueberries. I have got game, when it comes to pancakes. My French toast isn’t bad, either. ”
“I think I hit a nerve,” she teased.
“Well then?” I slid out of the bed and snapped to turn on the light. “Let me show off.”
“I can’t wait to check out your pancake game, but I cannot walk around your apartment in the condition you have reduced me to,” she said. “I need a shower.”
“Fine. Right through that far door. On the other side of the bathroom is the wardrobe. Use anything. One of my robes, or shirts, whatever else you find. Feel free.”
“Sounds good,” she said.
“You remember how to get to the kitchen? I’ll turn on the lights as I go.”
Her smile was more relaxed than any look I had seen on her face thus far. “I’m sure I can blunder my way back to the kitchen,” she said. “Particularly with the smell of pancakes to guide me. Go on, Ethan. Get to work. I want my pancakes.”
“I’m afraid to turn my back,” I blurted, out of nowhere. “I’m afraid you’ll disappear.”
“Not without my pancakes, I won’t,” she assured me.
But I just kept on standing there, mind wiped blank, smiling like an idiot. Amazed at how freaking beautiful she was.
“You’re just going to have to trust me,” she said. “It’s your turn for that.”
I turned and marched out to the sound of her soft laughter.